I have a deep affection for a great farce, and Iris Murdoch has crafted a magnificently refined socio-religious satire. Dora's seclusion within the lay community at the Abbey serves as a powerful metaphor for those individuals who are in search of refuge in religion from the chaos and turmoil of life. The Bell, as a symbol, is masterfully employed by Murdoch. It vividly reminds me of a couplet penned by the Urdu poet Ghalib:

"We know the reality of heaven,

but it's a good distraction for the heart."

This couplet seems to capture the essence of what Murdoch is trying to convey through her use of the symbol. The Bell represents something that is both real and yet serves as a distraction or a source of comfort in a world that can often be overwhelming. It makes one wonder about the true nature of religion and its role in our lives. Is it a means of finding true meaning and purpose, or is it simply a way to escape from the hardships and difficulties that we face? Murdoch's exploration of these themes in "The Bell" is both thought-provoking and engaging, making it a must-read for anyone interested in literature and the human condition.

The Bell of the Unquenchable Self

I don't typically discover a fully developed and distinct voice within the works of renowned female writers. Fortunately, I came across Iris Murdoch. Ms. Murdoch's writing style is uncluttered and straightforward, enabling her to present complex plots in an easily understandable manner. The content isn't deliberately dense, nor is the language overly华丽, yet she captivates me with the idiosyncratic and chaotic personalities she portrays. Gradually, I find myself deeply concerned about those fictional characters in her literary realm.

I learn that Ms. Murdoch is not only a novelist but also a philosopher, and I begin to view her literature as an imaginative personification of abstract philosophy. Although I haven't read any of her philosophical works, I get some inkling from the title of one of her most famous philosophical works, Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals. The setting of The Bell, Imber Court (an Anglican lay religious community), forms a metaphysical system, and the characters are moral agents interpreting and interacting within this system. Metaphysics doesn't凌驾于morals but rather serves as a mere guide for them, and it's up to the independent moral agent to construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct the metaphysical reality.

The submission of the self to a transcendent metaphysical system is exemplified by the character James, who believes: \\"The chief requirement of the good life is to live without any image of oneself.\\" However, the novel as a whole completely shatters the feasibility of this vision. The self is like a bell: \\"A bell is made to speak out. What would be the value of a bell which was never rung. It rings out clearly, it bears witness, it cannot speak without seeming like a call, a summons. A great bell is not to be silenced. Consider too its simplicity. There is no hidden mechanism. All that it is is plain and open.\\" Even when submerged in the deep lake, the bell emits ripples and causes emotional upheavals. Each individual has a unique self, but from the self emerge conflicting elements. In the case of Michael, it's both religious belief and passionate love. Rigid religious belief submits the moral self to the metaphysics, while passionate love, in a sense, submits the moral self to the independent moral self of another. Both can be utterly devastating. For Michael, he ultimately submits to love and disregards the metaphysics of religion: \\"He put it to himself: there is a God, but I do not believe in Him.\\" Tragically for him, the love he submits to is a hopeless one.

The Bell is quite similar to a modern version of The Magic Mountain without the arduous philosophical dialogues. Every character is highly engaging (I'm particularly intrigued by Michael, Noel, Nick, and Catherine). Ms. Murdoch lures me into her fictional world, and I can find myself through the voices she presents. This is my first Murdoch novel, but I can envision that in the future, she might very well replace Virginia Woolf as my favorite female writer.

In 1950s England, being homosexual was illegal. In this novel set in that era, Michael, who is homosexual, has established a mysterious religious community hidden away in the secluded woods. This community not only serves as a haven but also as a storage space for his desires. However, as the saying goes, you really can't hide from who you are.

Dora, a young woman unhappily married to an older man, also begins to realize that such repression cannot last.

Those who hope, by retiring from the world, to earn a holiday from human frailty, in themselves and in others, are usually disappointed.

Love is a central theme. There is a scene of absolute beauty where two people talk for hours as night falls, completely unaware that the room has suddenly gone dark. But where does that early love disappear to? When does one cross the line from loving someone to possessing them? If only it could last forever...

The talk of lovers who have just declared their love is one of life's most sweet delights. Each vies with the other in humility, in amazement at being so valued.

There is an overwhelming sense of dread building up, and when it finally arrives, it is hardly a surprise. After all, people were not meant to be shut-in. Redemption, if it comes at all, does so clumsily.

This was my first Murdoch novel, and I was deeply impressed by the simultaneous torment and wit in her writing. It made me reflect on the complex nature of human relationships and the struggles we face in a society that often压抑 our true selves.

Murdoch's work is truly remarkable. She constructs the way people philosophize about their own lives with such precision and engagement. I find myself annoyed with myself for not reading her nonfiction work 'The Sovereignty of Good' before or at the same time as this one. So much of this book is about how people conceptualize good and morality, and how they decide on and justify their actions. The tangle of perspectives and desires in this book is extremely compelling, even and especially when it is also deeply uncomfortable. (Be advised of trigger warnings: grooming, pedophilia, sexual assault.)

The other aspect that stands out is the way Murdoch builds anticipatory symbolism. This means that when events occur, they are filled with such depth, mystery, and a real connection to the characters' feelings. Even if when summarized, they might seem quite ordinary. But there is this sense of wonder, curiosity, and excitement that arises almost inexplicably. It kind of reminds me of how I feel when watching Rohrwacher's movies, which is really awesome because she is my favorite director.

I desperately need to read more of Murdoch's work and glean more from all the other existing reviews of this book. I am eager to explore further the profound ideas and themes that she presents.